


Please Don't Turn Your Back

by TheButterflySings



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Clint Is a Good Bro, Feels, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, steve rogers is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8437594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheButterflySings/pseuds/TheButterflySings
Summary: Bucky never wanted Steve to find out the darker details of HYDRA for this very reason.





	

Bucky never really meant to talk about it. He didn't, if he could help it. He didn't like to think about what had happened while he was with HYDRA, and he certainly didn't like anyone else to have to hear about it. If they did, they started to feel pity, and Bucky didn't need that. He didn't like pity any more than he needed anyone's sympathy. It was a different life when those things happened. 

It wasn't so completely avoidable once he'd moved into the Avengers Compound, though. Tony liked to know things, and so did Natasha, and through both of those things, Bucky ended up talking more about the bad things than he would have cared to. It wasn't so bad; usually, he felt a little bit better afterwards, some sort of burden lifted off of his chest. They cared enough to listen, and that was something that meant something to Bucky.

It even sort of came up by accident. He knew that they would never mean to do something that could potentially trigger him, but when they didn't know everything, it was hard, so really, he didn't-- couldn't-- blame Clint or Sam at all, it really was not their fault. They just so happened to be watching that show when Bucky came in, and it happened to be something dark, something triggering, and Bucky could have turned and walked away from it all, but it was his choice to sit next to Clint on the couch and accept the beer that was handed to him, almost as if he didn't know it was going to happen-- and he did, he really did. 

He wasn't even sure what the TV show was, but within the first five minutes of the show, it was obvious it was something Bucky didn't want to be watching. On the screen, three men were forcing a forth to his knees, and pants were being unbuttoned, and okay-- It was just a TV show. It would probably end right there, they wouldn't display anything more graphic than that. And they didn't, that was true, but the damage was done. One thing about those terrible memories was that, once it started, he was thrown into them, and there was not much he could do to get out of it. And the memories that came to the forefront of his brain right then-- they were possibly the worst.

Clint noticed first. "Buck, you okay?" he asked, reaching out to lay his hand on Bucky's shoulder. Bad call, such a bad call, Bucky'd have to remember to apologize for it at some point in the future, when he wasn't-- Before he could really stop himself from doing it, Bucky grabbed hold of the hand on his shoulder and used his strength to overpower Clint's-- not that Clint wasn't strong, but he really didn't stand a chance against a bionic super-soldier. He had Clint on the ground in front of the couch in seconds, a knee on the archer's chest and a metal hand around his throat. Of course, it Bucky's mind, it wasn't Clint. It was Pierce, or Rollins, Rumlow. It shifted. 

Sam made the wise choice of going to find Steve while Clint spoke, trying to talk the soldier out of whatever it was that was going on in his head. "Bucky, come on." He didn't sound scared, though he probably was, with Bucky on top of him like that, murder there behind the cold blue eyes, and a metal hand gripping his throat tighter and tighter. His voice didn't waver. "Bucky, you know us, you know we wouldn't hurt you. Whatever you're seeing, whatever happened, it's not real, it's not them."

"Shut up," Bucky growled. It was Clint's voice, but that was still them, their faces. It was-- what if they'd found him, what if-- It was only a matter of time before he was on his knees like that again, he couldn't let it happen.

"Bucky!"

That was Steve's voice. Bucky's head snapped around to where Steve, Tony, Sam, and Natasha were pouring into the room. He recognized them, dimly, he thought. Natasha had a gun. In an instant, Bucky had released the hold he had on Clint's throat and was moving away, shrinking back against the couch and trembling. Clint, to his credit, didn't flinch. "What happened?" he asked in a gravelly voice, carefully reaching out to touch the side of Bucky's knee. 

The thing was, Bucky wasn't entirely sure. He knew that it was just memories, things that he should have been over. He knew exactly what the trigger was, too. But he didn't know why he'd been so quickly thrown into something that bad, that dark. Steve knelt next to him, wrapping one arm carefully around Bucky's shoulders, and Bucky leaned against him, allowing the gentle touch to sooth his mind.

"Buck, what happened?" Steve repeated gently, and Bucky shook his head.

"Don't want to talk about it," he mumbled. 

"Well, that's all good and well, but you just tried to kill a member of our team, so I think you need to get over what you want and tell us what happened," Tony interceded harshly, and Bucky flinched. He hated that tone. He hated feeling like he was going to be punished, or kicked off the team. Tony already didn't like him. This was probably what was going to lead to Bucky not being accepted in the compound. Not just almost killing Clint, but all of the problems, all of the triggers. It was unavoidable.

"Tony," Steve snapped, shooting the other man a glare. 

"He wouldn't have killed me," Clint added, and he sounded so sure, so confident of that fact. It made Bucky's heart hurt. Clint was a good friend, one of the best Bucky'd ever had, aside from Steve. But Steve was never really just a friend, so it wasn't the same. "Something just happened. Bucky, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but maybe if we knew, we could help?"

Bucky inhaled a shaky breath and glanced at Steve, who was smiling reassuringly and nodding at him. And he started to talk.

"The thing that HYDRA instilled above all else was obedience. They say order, but that's not really true. They thought they could force everyone to think a certain way and act a certain way, and if you didn't, you were killed or punished. That was just how it was. With me, I didn't have any choice. Obedience was forced into my brain, into my actions. I was the perfect weapon. Which also meant they could do whatever they wanted to me, and I wouldn't fight back unless I was given the order. And I was never given that order. It didn't matter what I felt, or would have felt if I'd been allowed to feel. I was subhuman, I was... I was like a gun that someone got to hold and point, and then throw away when I wasn't needed anymore. The difference was, they never fucked their guns."

He could hear sharp intakes of breath all around him, and the arm on his shoulder tightened and tensed. But he couldn't bring himself to look up. He had started talking, and if he saw any of their faces, he'd likely stop.

"The first time... I was just out of cryo, they'd started everything over, I was needed for some assignment. I don't remember which one at his point, there were too many. And I... I think it was Pierce, that time. I don't know why this time was different for him. He'd never done it before. But this time, he sort of... He pushed his thumb into my mouth. I think he was testing. When I didn't bite him, that was all he needed. It was apparently his permission to go ahead and do whatever he wanted. He unbuttoned his pants, and... he grabbed my hair and sort of dragged me out of the chair and pushed me down to my knees. And then it... wasn't his thumb in my mouth. It was just Pierce that time. The next time, there was probably four or five of them."

"It became my punishment. If there was ever disobedience or something they didn't like, I was tied up in this room. They'd take their turns beating me. Apparently, they got off on it. They must have, the sex always came after, and it was always brutal. It always hurt, even with advanced healing. They weren't gentle about it. You're not gentle with something that's not human to you. Sometimes, they used knives. Rumlow always liked it better if he had a knife against my throat while he... At least, it never lasted as long. There was usually only a few, but sometimes there were as many as twelve or thirteen. And when they were finished, I was tied back up and left like that, naked and in a lot of pain. It never hurt any less."

"It was my reward, too. If I did good. I guess, at the time that that started happening, even in a brainwashed state, I was so starved for any type of affection that I would react to it. It didn't hurt those times. They'd pet my hair and say I'd done well and kiss anywhere on my body they could reach-- not my mouth. That was too intimate for them, I think. They left marks, but they faded pretty quickly. They were always nice about it, if they thought I'd done well-- and I almost always did my missions well. But there were still always at least three of them, unless Rumlow decided he wanted me for himself, which happened sometimes. He liked using me more than the rest of them did, I think. He was my handler, I think he thought it was his right. I... I enjoyed it. Those times that they were actually gentle with me. It was so different than anything else they were willing to give me."

"I guess when I saw that scene starting on the TV, it threw me back into those memories." Bucky blinked a couple times, now aware that he was on the verge of tears. He allowed himself to look up, finding Clint's eyes first. "Sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"Nothing I can't handle, and that doesn't even matter. I'm sorry, man, I wish I'd known, I would've..." He trailed off, like he wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't the only one. They had all fallen silent and were staring at him with something like sympathy. Even Tony. He looked like he regretted snapping at Bucky.

"It doesn't matter now," Steve began softly, gently turning Bucky's face so they could watch each other. There was something unreadable behind Steve's baby blue eyes, and his arm was still very tense where it rested on Bucky's shoulders. "We know now. And we're gonna do everything we can to make sure that it doesn't happen again. Okay?" He smiled, but Bucky noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes.

\--------

It was nice to finally get it out. It was something that had consumed him for so long. They didn't treat him differently, which he was glad for, but he noticed they were more careful about what they played on TV. He was also glad that nearly killing Clint hadn't dampened their friendship. According to Clint, he was used to his friends trying to kill him. It was nothing new. Bucky probably shouldn't have laughed, but he did.

But there was one person who had started to treat him differently, the one he had hoped never would. 

Since Bucky had been back, with all his memories and mostly his own brain, he and Steve had started something... fragile. Which meant that they didn't really label it, but there were soft kisses and holding hands, and long nights where their enhanced stamina certainly came in handy. But since Bucky had told him what had happened while he was still with HDYRA, Steve had stopped all of it. Two weeks and three days since that night, and they hadn't kissed or held hands or had sex or even really cuddled once. Steve had withdrawn and was completely distant.

And it was tearing Bucky apart.

He loved Steve. He loved Steve like he'd been too afraid to ever love anyone, and losing him over this? It was enough to make him want to die.

It happened at movie night approximately a month after he'd initially told Steve and Clint and Natasha and Tony about that particular dark part of his past. Bucky and Steve were on the couch, and Bucky was curled up with Steve's arm around him. That was the most contact they'd had in the past month. About halfway through the movie, Zero Dark Thirty (Sam's choice-- Natasha had punched him for it), Bucky decided he was going to try for something just a little more intimate than what he'd been getting. He sat up a little straighter and casually ran the fingers of his metal hand over Steve's jaw.

As expected, Steve flinched slightly. He'd always had a wariness towards the arm because it made him feel guilty, but never, until recently, had he flinched away from it. Frowning, Bucky dropped his hand back to his lap. After a second, he leaned a little closer and tried to press a soft kiss to Steve's lips. Steve turned his head just enough that the kiss landed on the corner of his mouth. Something inside Bucky shattered. 

"Why do you keep moving away from me?" he asked in a voice that was so emotionless it shocked even him. Suddenly, two pairs of eyes were on them as both Tony and Natasha both turned to look at them. Sam and Clint both focused pointedly on the TV, at least pretending to give them some privacy.

"Trouble in paradise?" Tony asked conversationally, and Sam had the decency to elbow him sharply and whisper a hurried, 'shut up'. 

"For there to be trouble in paradise, we'd have to actually be a couple," Bucky replied, shoving away from Steve quickly and bolting to his feet. Part of him felt like he needed to run. Part of him was angry. Most of him just felt the keen sting of rejection like a dull ache in the pit of his stomach, but accepted it. He'd seen it coming, after all. Why would Steve ever want to be with someone so damaged as Bucky was.

"Bucky," Steve sighed quietly. "You know that's--"

"Do I know?" Bucky cut in. "Do I know anything when it comes to you anymore? I thought I did. I thought... You haven't touched me since you found out about the abuse. You haven't kissed me, you won't let me touch you, we haven't done anything more intimate than laying in bed together, and I want to know why. Is it finally too much for you to handle, Steve? Am I finally too damaged, too disgusting for you? I know you've always hated this arm, but now it's like you finally see the rest of me the same way. I warned you, I warned you there were parts of my past and parts of me that you weren't going to like, and you promised me, you promised it wouldn't be enough to make you leave, and you still--" His voice cut off abruptly. There were tears stinging at the back of his eyes. He couldn't cry. Steve wasn't crying.

In fact, Steve just looked very tired. "Please don't do this," he whispered.

"I'm sorry that all of this is too much for you," Bucky spat out, turning on his heel. "I knew from the beginning that you wouldn't be able to love me." He was out of the room before Steve could respond. "FRIDAY," he began quietly, once he was hidden away in some random room in the compound. 

"Yes, James?" 

"Don't tell him where I am."

\-----

It took Steve almost three days to finally find Bucky to talk to him. Bucky didn't want to be found, which meant he wouldn't be found. It was almost three a.m. and he just so happened to run into Bucky in the kitchen. Bucky was getting something to eat, probably waited to do so until so late so he wouldn't run into Steve, and Steve hesitated in the doorway. He hadn't been sleeping well without Bucky at his side. He felt the absence in his heart, like there was a piece missing. He'd gotten up to get a glass of water, and now, he wasn't sure what to say.

"Bucky," he began hesitantly, and his heart ached at the way Bucky instantly tensed at the sound of his voice. "Please don't run," he added quietly, and there was nothing he could have done to keep the thick edge of pain out of his voice. Slowly, Bucky turned to face him. His beautiful blue eyes were guarded and wary, and his face was a dull mask of nothingness. 

"What do you want?" Bucky asked tonelessly, and that was a mask, too, a mask against his pain. It cut into Steve like a dull knife, and he wasn't sure how to even begin fixing this.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered. "Bucky, I'm sorry, I didn't... All those things you said, they aren't true, you've got to know that, Buck. I don't think you're... too damaged or disgusting, I could never think that."

"There has to be something. You wouldn't even look at me the same after--"

"Bucky, I hate what they did to you." Steve stepped closer to the other man, closing some of the distance between them. Bucky fidgeted, like he was ready to run, but he was trapped between Steve and the counter. "I hate that they even thought they could-- And every time I wanted to do anything with you after that, I just, I couldn't help but think. What if I was no better than them, what if it just felt to you like I wasn't doing any differently than them? I don't ever want you to think that, Buck, that I was just using you, or that I was forcing you into something. It has nothing to do with... you're not too damaged for me, I promised you that, I promised you I would love every part of you, the good and the bad, and nothing would be enough to make me leave, and it's not, Bucky, I swear, I just didn't want to push you."

"So you pushed me away instead," Bucky said tiredly, and Steve had to blink rapidly to stop tears from falling. "I hated myself, Steve, for so long, thinking that I was only good for what they used me for. A weapon and a toy. And anyone else, it would be so hard to even pretend I could have a relationship with, but you are the one person I never, ever, would have thought was just trying to use me. But instead of talking to me about it, you made me think that... that you don't love me, that I'm undesirable. And maybe I am, but fuck, Steve, I'm not gonna pretend it didn't hurt."

"I'm sorry," Steve breathed out again. He pulled Bucky into his arms, dimly aware that the man was shaking. "That's not true. I love you more than I've loved anyone on this planet, and for god's sake, Bucky, I always want you."

Bucky looked up at him, and Steve wanted nothing more than to erase that doubt in his eyes. "Always?"

The only answer Steve could even think to give was to press Bucky a little more firmly against he counter and press their lips together in a rough, heated kiss. In half a second, Bucky had melted against him and wrapped his arm around Steve's neck, holding them close together. It wasn't anything sweet or romantic, it was a lot of built up anger and tension and sadness and heartache coming to the surface and clashing, but it was Bucky, and god, that made it all worth it. And even as his mind was telling him they probably shouldn't have been doing this in Tony's kitchen, his hands were moving to the hem of Bucky's shirt and pushing it up. As he detached himself from Bucky's mouth-- earning a near-whine from Bucky-- he continued to push the shirt up and out of the way.

"I always want you, Bucky," he repeated firmly. "Even at the times when I know I shouldn't. How could I ever find you disgusting? I can't even begin-- the things you do to me, I swear."

"Then show me," Bucky challenged, and no, Steve most certainly did not growl. 

Except he did, and he proceeded to do exactly that.

\-----

The next morning, Tony found them both curled up on the couch, Bucky's bare chest littered in a couple deep purple marks that hadn't quite faded yet. Steve, who normally would have been embarrassed by something like that, was wearing the most smug smile Tony had ever seen out of him. 

"So... Trouble in paradise?" Tony asked, glancing between the two of them, and Steve scoffed. 

"Nope," Bucky answered lazily. "But you might want to clean your counter."


End file.
